composed soon after takeoff, on a FI 644 flight from DC to Reykjavik, en route to Beirut… — Stare wide-eyed, lean against the glass,
Shrinking streets beneath you pass.
Neighborhoods, branching electric capillaries
Of a million microcosmic moments,
Brushed over from above. Each cloned house, a home holds,
Some warm, some torn,
Some are shelters,
And others, a storm. Shrinking still, they become a tiny flicker,
But inside, house…